


on the nights you feel outnumbered (i'll be out there somewhere)

by cornerkick



Category: Women's Soccer RPF
Genre: Established Relationship, F/F, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-16
Updated: 2019-09-19
Packaged: 2020-11-02 06:44:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,321
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20656973
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cornerkick/pseuds/cornerkick
Summary: Sometimes, you just need to prove you're good at something after a tough loss.Emily's really good at this.





	1. in love with how your soul's a mix of chaos and art

**Author's Note:**

> So this takes places after that disastrous Portland/Utah game because we all needed a little therapy after that. This is my first time writing for this specific fandom -and pairing actually- so please be gentle.
> 
> Title comes from Dermot Kennedy's "Outnumbered" which is only vaguely related to this specific fic but reminds me very much of these two.

It all happens so _ fast_, but Lindsey sees it all play out in slow motion.

From her spot across the pitch, she can _ see _ the open field, Amy breaking free, and she knows what’s happening before Emily even makes the conscious decision to do it. But Sonny knows as well as Lindsey does that if ARod goes in alone, it’s an 80/20 chance they go down even further, and that’s being generous.

So Sonny hauls Amy down and the official reacts immediately, the second yellow, and then the red held high overhead. 

That’s not what Lindsey’s looking at, though. She’s already jogging towards Emily because she knows her (knows how Emily will blame herself for this loss if they can’t get their shit together, how hard she can be on herself, how her shoulders are going to slump as soon as she realizes…)

And then Amy’s in Emily’s face, and Sonny’s usually not afraid of jawing back or giving it back just as good as she gets it, but right now, she just looks a little bit confused and a lot taken aback. As she stalks closer, Lindsey catches the tail end of one of Amy’s insults, and, just like that, she’s seeing red. A white-hot pinprick of anger swells in Lindsey’s stomach as she reaches the pair, first shoving ARod in the back and yelling something in her general direction and then sidestepping the growing crowd to find Emily, placing what she hopes is a comforting hand on her hip and giving a light squeeze before following the group. It only lasts a fraction of a second, but her hand feels like it's on fire from the slightest touch.

Tobin’s getting into it, now, too and that surprises Lindsey for a beat before her brain catches up. It’s _ Sonny _ . They _ all _ love Sonny (some of them just love her in a little bit of a different way). 

-  
  
The game doesn’t get any better without Emily.

In fact, every time the Thorns gain possession, Lindsey’s expecting that perfect ball to hit her in stride, but it never does, because Emily’s not there to give it to her. Instead, their passes don’t connect or they turn it over, and barely two minutes later, Amy does something else stupid which prompts _ Lindsey _ to do something else stupid.

Amy’s got the ball but she’s not doing anything with it, and Lindsey can just see Sonny’s face, the surprise mixed with something closer to sadness that makes Lindsey’s adrenaline spike again, and before she knows what she’s doing, she’s reacting.

The whistle might have blown; Lindsey hadn’t heard it over the roar of her own heartbeat in her ears. She uses one arm to shove ARod right over, off the ball, and takes it back herself. 

The official holds up another yellow, this one belonging to her, but Lindsey’s hardly paying attention to him because now Amy’s yelling at her. Lindsey yells right back at her, practically _ daring _Amy into her own second card, but she doesn’t bite.

That annoys Lindsey, and she feels like she’s on autopilot until the final whistle blows. Normally, she’d hang around in the mixed zone, maybe seek out her national team teammates from the Royals and exchange jokes or jerseys. Not tonight. Tonight, her head’s only in one place, and as she ducks into the locker room only to find it empty, a frown creases her forehead.

“Son?” She calls out tentatively, just in case Emily’s holed up somewhere she can’t immediately see, but she gets no response. Her heartbeat’s lodged somewhere in her throat again and her head aches with the adrenaline rush that hasn’t quite left her from the match yet. Lindsey checks her phone but finds it blank, so she gets back to her usual routine. Methodically, she showers and changes back into street clothes, avoids Kelley calling to her from the hallway and pushes her AirPods in. There’s no music playing, but it gives her an excuse to ignore anyone trying to get her attention.

Lindsey boards the team bus in record time, but Emily’s not in her usual spot in the back. She gives the driver a sidelong glance, looks back towards the pitch for a second or two, considers her options. Where else would Emily even _ go _? 

Trying not to overthink it and ignoring the ache in her chest, Lindsey makes her way down the aisle and flops heavily into her seat in the back, leaving the window seat open for Emily if she does turn up, and reaches for her phone.

**Are you still here?**

Three little dots appear for a second or two, then vanish. Lindsey worries her bottom lip. She doesn’t want to push, but she’s worried. The look on Emily’s face…

**Send an emoji to let me know you’re not dead.**

Not three seconds later, the upside down smiley face appears on her screen, and Lindsey exhales a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. She can’t help it; her fingers work faster than her brain.

**I’ll see you at the hotel?**

A thumbs-up follows. Lindsey’s heart rate slows minimally and she taps out of her conversation with Emily, leans her head back against the seat, and queues up one of the playlists Emily made her. Slowly, her teammates pile in around her. Most of them give her a wide berth, and Lindsey only shifts into the window-seat, usually occupied by Sonny, when the bus driver closes the door and it becomes clear she’s already made her way back on her own. The thought of Emily tucked up alone in an Uber makes Lindsey’s chest hurt.

As the bus starts moving, Tobin throws herself into the seat next to her. Lindsey gives her a look but says nothing. Tobin doesn’t speak, either, only gives her a leg a little nudge with her own. Tobin’s got her headphones in, too, and appears to be deep in conversation with someone via text. Lindsey sort of wonders why she’s not with Christen, but doesn’t want to ask; it could open up an entirely different conversation, and Lindsey doesn’t want to talk about it.

Five minutes later, she puts a hand on Lindsey’s knee to get her to stop bouncing it and they share a look.

They still don’t talk about it.

-

When the bus reaches the team hotel, Lindsey makes a beeline for her room. Luckily, it’s been at least a year since anyone else tried rooming with her. At first, it was just because they stayed up way too late watching stupid YouTube videos and laughing in the dark, but for a while now it’s been...different. 

Lindsey would have chased Amy off before they started seeing each other, but she might not have taken the yellow. 

Maybe.

She slips inside and finds Emily curled up on her side of the bed they shared last night, the television on and playing a Parks and Rec rerun. “Hey,” Lindsey says, and her voice sounds far away and raspy. Emily picks up her head and glances in her direction, and even in the dim light, Lindsey catches the ghost of a smile upon her face.

“Hey. So that sucked, huh?” She’s trying to joke, to fall back into her usual self, but the way her voice kind of breaks on the end, Lindsey knows. She kicks off her shoes and leaves them and her bag near the door before crossing the room and opening her arms as an invitation. Emily folds herself into the hug immediately, using her weight to pull Lindsey down into bed with her. It takes a little rearranging, but soon, Lindsey’s got one leg slotted between Emily’s and her arm around Emily’s shoulders. Sonny’s turned in towards her, a hand fisted in her t-shirt, face pressed into the crook of Lindsey’s neck. 

“I can think of better ways of sucking,” Lindsey tries, the silence that blankets them unsettling. Normally, she and Emily can be wrapped in silence and it’s not uncomfortable or awkward. Tonight, though, is different. Emily’s uncharacteristically quiet and the laugh she gets out of her sounds hollow. She doesn’t want to ask if Emily’s okay because it’s so clear to Lindsey that she isn’t, but she’s not sure how to make it any better, either. She combs the fingers of her free hand through Emily’s still-damp hair and bites her bottom lip. Emily sighs into the quiet and tips her head up, adjusting a bit to press a kiss to Lindsey’s lips. 

It surprises her a bit, takes her a second to kiss back, and when she does, it’s chaste and soft and gentle. Evidently, too chaste, soft, and gentle for Emily’s liking. She sighs again, this time out of frustration, and presses a hand against Lindsey’s chest. 

“Hey,” she says, her voice raspy in the way it usually gets when they’re messing around. It makes Lindsey’s stomach twist pleasantly. “I just wanna be _ good _ at something right now.” 

There’s something a little desperate in Emily’s voice, the way it hitches on the last word, and Lindsey’s hand falls to Emily’s hip and gives it a little squeeze. “You _ are _ good.” She doesn’t mean just at soccer, though that’s certainly included. 

Emily’s not looking at her. She’s looking at a spot just over her left shoulder, and that makes Lindsey reach a hand out for her quivering chin, force their eyes to meet. “You’re _ so good _, Em. But if you feel like you need to prove it…”

That’s all Emily needs. 

She shifts to get a leg between Lindsey’s and pushes until she’s on top.

Lindsey looks absolutely gorgeous like this, sprawled out on her back with her hair fanned out and looking up at her with blown pupils and dark eyes. Emily slips a hand beneath her shirt, fingertips brushing along Lindsey’s ribs as she slots a leg between Lindsey’s and kisses her again. Lindsey opens her mouth into it easily, pliant beneath Emily’s hands. She’s bracing herself on one arm, the other hand creeping down to anchor onto Lindsey’s hip. “Too many clothes,” she decides when she breaks the kiss.

That’s all it takes for Lindsey to sit up, briefly, and shrug her shirt over her head. Emily helps her with the sports bra that gets caught on her necklace, and they’re both laughing softly as they settle again, Lindsey with a pretty blush creeping along her cheeks and Emily pausing where she is just to _ look _ for a second or two. Sometimes, she doesn’t really believe she gets to do this, to have a topless Lindsey Horan in _ her _ bed. She knows Lindsey doesn’t really like the attention, or _ hadn’t _, before. But Emily straddles her hips and ducks down for a kiss, her knuckles skimming just the underside of Lindsey’s breast as she does so. 

The kiss goes on and on. Emily could do this forever, really, breathing Lindsey in and catching her lower lip between both of hers and _ sucking _ the way she knows Lindsey likes. She gets a little gasp into her mouth for her efforts, and it makes Emily smile and break the kiss, though she does scrape her teeth lightly over Lindsey’s bottom lip before trailing her kisses along Lindsey’s jaw and neck instead. While she finds a particularly tender spot where Lindsey’s neck and shoulder meet, uses her teeth and tongue to mark her there, her hand finds Lindsey’s breast. She twists a nipple between a finger and a thumb just to hear Lindsey gasp again, flicks her thumb over it before pressing down firmly with her palm. Lindsey arches into her touch and Emily feels, for the first time tonight, that she’s good at something.

She repeats the same motion on the opposite side as her kisses dip lower, tongue tracing along Lindsey’s collarbone and chasing the blush creeping lower over her chest. She glances up, then, a little thrill going through her when she realizes Lindsey’s watching her instead of keeping her eyes closed. Emily grins up at her before taking a nipple into her mouth, rolling her tongue over it and sucking hard enough to get the first real moan out of Lindsey tonight. Her hand rolls the opposite nipple between her finger and thumb as she releases it, running her teeth over the nipple instead and feeling Lindsey’s hips jump against her. Emily places one hand on Lindsey’s hip and uses the other to brush a few blonde flyaways out of her face. Now, Lindsey’s got her eyes closed, lips parted just slightly, and it’s the most beautiful thing Emily’s ever seen.

She kisses down between Lindsey’s breasts and down along her abs, feeling the muscles tense beneath her touch. Just before she reaches the waistband of her sweats, Emily stretches back up to kiss Lindsey again. She returns it eagerly, fingers curling in the soft hairs at the back of Emily’s neck and tugging just slightly. It’s encouragement as much as a reminder, and Emily’s reaching for the waistband of Lindsey’s sweats while Lindsey helps her tug them off. 

“Okay?” Emily says, even though she doesn’t really need to.

“Yeah,” is all Lindsey says, turning her head to look at Emily properly, eyes glassy and pupils blown and Emily’s not even going to make her wait for it because she doesn’t think she’s strong enough to do that just now. She runs her fingers through wet folds, accidentally brushing where Lindsey’s most sensitive and making her hips jump. 

“Sorry,” she laughs against Lindsey’s cheek while Lindsey adjusts, getting her feet flat on the mattress and spreading her legs a little bit wider as Emily slides two fingers inside like they’re nothing. _ That _ makes Emily groan as she works her fingers, twisting her wrist to get a better angle and letting her lips find Lindsey’s pulse point and sucking a mark there, just for good measure. Lindsey curls her hand around Emily’s neck, which makes her go back for a proper kiss just as she curls her fingers just right, thumb swiping just right. Lindsey’s thigh shakes a little bit with the effort and that’s Emily’s cue to pull her hand back entirely. 

A choked noise of protest falls from Lindsey’s lips, though it’s replaced with something closer to a moan as Emily kisses her way back down her body, running her teeth over a nipple, tongue along clenched abs, pausing to kiss along Lindsey’s bellybutton, her hip bone, the top of one thigh. Lindsey’s fingers grasp Emily’s hair and _ pull, _so it’s all Emily can do to rest her chin on her hand and give her what she wants. 

Lindsey jumps at the first swipe of her tongue, so Emily rests an arm along her hips to keep her in place, but after that, they get into a rhythm and Emily can let Lindsey reach for that hand instead, lacing their fingers while she lifts up to push back with two fingers, her lips finding the sensitive spot and wrapping her lips around it. 

It’s not long before Lindsey’s coming apart around her, shaking with the effort and Emily’s name upon her lips. Emily helps her down with a few feather-light kisses to her thigh before resting her chin there instead, looking up at Lindsey fondly. She loves doing this, loves being _ good _ at something.

Lindsey exhales on a laugh as she comes down from it, fingers giving the hand she’s still holding a squeeze. “Okay,” she breathes, voice thick. “You’re really good at that.” 

Emily grins smugly, cheek still resting against Lindsey’s thigh. She knows it, but that doesn’t mean she doesn’t like hearing it. In fact, right now, tonight especially, she likes it a _ lot _. “Oh yeah?” She murmurs, breath ghosting along Lindsey’s thigh as she brushes her thumb against the back of Lindsey’s hand. “Best you ever had?” 

“I don’t know if-” Emily cuts her off with a pinch to the thigh that makes Lindsey gasp indignantly. Before she can follow-up the thought, though, Emily’s rocking up to press a kiss to her mouth. They both know Lindsey can taste herself there, and it makes Lindsey groan into Emily’s mouth, which only makes her smile again, effectively breaking the kiss. She noses against Lindsey’s cheek and jaw before tucking her head into Lindsey’s neck for a second, breathing her in and sighing contentedly. Lindsey slings an arm low over her waist and squeezes her tight. She could fall asleep like this, forget all about the game (for now).

But, of course, nothing ever lasts. Lindsey’s got her tucked into her side so she can’t see Emily’s face when she says it. “What she said…”

“Nope,” Emily replies, jostling Lindsey as she pulls herself into an upright position. Lindsey grumbles at the immediate loss of warmth and purses her lips up at her. “We are not ruining a good thing by talking about that right now.”

Lindsey reaches for her but Emily dances away. “I’m gross. Gotta shower.” And then she’s off the bed and halfway into the bathroom before turning to throw a glance over her shoulder.

“You coming or what?”

\- 

Half an hour later, Emily’s laying on her stomach in nothing but one of Lindsey’s sweatshirts, half-asleep, warm, and spent. Lindsey pads into the room and almost immediately lays directly on top of her. Emily grunts like she doesn’t _ love _ the weight on top of her and wriggles a bit until Lindsey slides sideways, arm around Emily’s shoulders and one of her legs between Emily’s. For a moment, she’s quiet, and Emily thinks she’s getting away with it, at least for one night. 

But then Lindsey gives her a soft squeeze and turns her head to look at her, and Emily knows as soon as she opens her eyes to look into Lindsey’s that she’s fucked. “You _ are _ good at it.”

“Yeah, you mentioned that already.” Emily knows that’s not what Lindsey meant, knows that Lindsey’s talking about soccer again, but it’s almost worth it to see that little crease between Lindsey’s eyebrows and watch her shake her head emphatically. She shifts them until her back’s against the headboard, but she’s still holding Emily close, pulled into her side. The way Emily’s angled, she doesn’t have to look into Lindsey’s eyes, and this time, she doesn’t try and convince her to.

“Em,” Lindsey murmurs, and it makes Emily’s breath stutter a little bit. She has a lot of nicknames, but Lindsey only really ever calls her _ that _ when they’re alone, and it usually makes her feel good. It still does, though she’s twisting her fingers in Lindsey’s shirt, which is actually one of her own. “I don’t think you get it.”

Emily’s voice is quiet when she asks, “Get what?” It’s almost like she doesn’t _ want _ to know the answer.

“How good you are.” Emily’s stomach twists on itself and she buries her nose into Lindsey’s shirt, comforted, as always, by the familiar scent and breathing out on a long, low sigh. 

“I wasn’t good tonight.” 

“Neither was I,” Lindsey replies with a lift of her shoulder. She’s tracing shapes that might be _ LH _ & _ ES _ into Emily’s back. “I haven’t really been since we got back.” 

“That’s not-”

“Hey,” Lindsey cuts her off by pressing her fingertips to Emily’s lips; Emily bites at them, making Lindsey laugh as she pulls back to ruffle Emily’s still-damp hair instead. “This isn’t about me. Anyway, you’re _ good _ at your job. And Amy wasn’t right about all that.”

About Tokyo. Emily closes her eyes to keep herself from thinking too hard about it, because it’s something she thinks about almost _ constantly _, that the roster for the Olympics is five less, that there are veterans and other young players who are more consistent, who don’t make the kind of stupid, foolish mistakes that she does, who aren’t-

“Get out of your head, Em.” She does, pulling away just enough to really _ look _ at Lindsey, whose tone is so sincere it pulls everything into focus. “You’re the only reason Amy didn’t score there. I get why you did it. Next time, you’ll do better. Alright? But she was wrong. You’re good. _ And _ great.”

Emily’s lips twitch in the ghost of a smile as she watches Lindsey from behind her lashes. “Good _ and _ great, huh?”

“Yeah,” Lindsey says, tipping Emily’s chin up so she can catch her lips. 

“What does that even mean?”

“You’re a good person,” Lindsey says, chasing a trail of freckles along Emily’s cheeks with her lips. “And a great soccer player. Don’t forget.”

Coming from Lindsey, it _ means _ something. Emily doesn’t know if she’ll ever truly believe what her girl is saying, but if _ Lindsey _ thinks she’s good (and great), then she sure as hell is going to try her best to be that for her. 

“You’ll remind me, though.”

“Sure.” 

And she always does. 


	2. and i'll always hold your hand in the car

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Emily, Lindsey, the Courage game, and the aftermath.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for reading! This one's done (for now), but I'm sure I'll be revisiting soccer because...I can't get away from it. Hope you enjoy!

Gameday’s different when you’re not playing.  
  
It’s different than being hurt or not starting. She’s used to both of _ those _ feelings. But driving to Providence Park with Lindsey just because they’re trying to keep their routine as close to normal as possible is _ weird _. Emily doesn’t have her gear bag and she’s dressed in sweats with a baseball cap pulled down low. It’s too quiet in the car, too, one of Emily’s playlists filtering through the car to cut the silence. When she glances over at Lindsey after she’s done scrolling through Instagram, Emily can see the tense set of her jaw and can’t help it.

“If you’re not careful, your face is gonna stick like that.” 

Lindsey’s jaw twitches, but she doesn’t take her eyes off the road. For some reason, she’s driving with both hands, which she almost never does, and her knuckles are white against the steering wheel. Emily leans over the console first to press a sloppy kiss to Lindsey’s cheek, making her smile and relax her jaw muscles for the time being, and then to snag her right hand and pull it across and into her lap. She takes Lindsey’s hand in both of hers and laces their fingers, gives it a firm squeeze.

“It’s gonna be fine,” she says, more to Lindsey than to herself, though she needs to hear the confirmation from Lindsey just as much.

“Yeah,” Lindsey echoes with a shrug. “It’ll be fine.” She doesn’t sound so sure, but then Cardi B comes on and Emily is contractually obligated to dance along, so they’re not forced to acknowledge that playing the team near the top of the table without her might not, in fact, be fine.

-

Emily’s going to watch the game from one of the boxes. Management thought it would be a good idea for her to stay off of the field for a little while. The team needs to focus and Emily can’t really argue there. North Carolina is frustratingly good, and it’s eating her up inside that she can’t be down there with them trying to defend against them.

She’s watching them warm up, eyes flicking back to Lindsey and her usual routine every few seconds. Her strides look good and her balls in are solid, but she’s missing open looks on AD, too. Time’s running out and the back line and the rest are starting to gather up. Emily’s chest hurts a little bit knowing she should be down there between them, knowing that if she’d just _ held herself in check _, she’d be in her usual spot right now.

The team breaks and Lindsey looks up, right at her, and Emily’s breath catches. Lindsey holds up her hand for the long-distance handshake and Emily mirrors her, unable to hide the smile that’s creeped onto her face. 

Lindsey, meanwhile, looks absolutely pissed. 

This could be very good...or very bad.

-

As it turns out, it was very bad. It was certainly _ not _ fine, the backline looked like a mess, and the rest of the team didn’t look much better. When Lindsey’s header had gone wide, Emily could almost _ feel _the frustration coming off of her in waves, even from all the way up here.

When Lindsey takes a yellow in the 58th minute, Emily’s already on the sideline, blending in with the substitutions and trying not to wince too much about it. She can tell Lindsey’s frustrated just by the set of her shoulders and the way she’s clenching her jaw. 

When they sub Lindsey out in the 79th, Emily’s there with a water bottle and a hand for Lindsey to bump, even if she only does it out of obligation. Lindsey’s still angry, if the flash in her eyes is anything to go by, but Emily sits beside her and rests her hand on Lindsey’s bouncing knee, just a reminder that she’s there. She doesn’t put much pressure into it, or force the leg to stop moving, just wants to be there. 

Lindsey doesn’t say so, but she appreciates it.

-

Emily hangs around a little after the game, if only to try and pull a couple of their teammates out of the hole. She _ literally _ has to haul Tobin off of the grass after forcing her to give her a high five, so she’s expecting to have to do the same with Lindsey.

Only Lindsey isn’t in the locker room when she gets back at all. A few of the others are, routinely changing and showering and gathering their stuff. Since she didn’t have to play, Emily doesn’t have to do any of that. “Linds?” She half-yells into the room before turning to go, checking her phone on the way. There is a message flashing across the screen from Lindsey, but it’s clipped.

**Outside.**

Sighing softly, Emily makes the familiar trek to the parking lot to their usual spot and throws herself into the passenger seat. Lindsey’s already inside, the radio up loud, and she barely waits for Emily to buckle her seatbelt before putting it in reverse and pulling out of the parking lot. The set of her jaw is still there, like it was earlier this evening, but her shoulders aren’t tense like she’s holding up the weight of the world anymore. They’re slumped in an almost defeated way. Emily would reach for her hand again, but Lindsey’s got her left elbow against the window and she’s using the right one to drive, so it leaves Emily’s hands free to plug her phone in and put on something less depressing. 

Lindsey glances over at her when she does it, but says nothing. She does switch hands so she can rest her hand on Emily’s thigh instead, and, not for the first time, Emily’s struck but how _ big _ Lindsey’s hands are. It’s almost possessive, the way she presses into her, and at the red light, her hand creeps a little bit higher up, closer to the inseam of Emily’s sweats. 

Emily knows she’s getting overheated and she chews her lower lip as she keeps staring straight ahead, if only because _ Lindsey _ isn’t looking at _ her _. “Missed you tonight,” Lindsey says, something like disappointment in her voice. Emily can’t tell if it’s disappointment in her or Lindsey’s disappointment with herself, but either way, it’s unsettling. “I played like shit.”

“You-” Emily stops the lie before it tumbles from her lips when Lindsey gives her thigh a squeeze, exhales sharply. “...okay, it wasn’t your best performance. You’ll get there.”

Lindsey’s been trying to _ get there _ since the World Cup. Sure, she’s scored in a couple of Victory Tour games, and that helped take the tension away for a while, but it’d be nice to score when it _ mattered _again. 

“Hey,” Emily tries again, resting her hand on top of Lindsey’s. “You can score on me anytime.” 

Catching her eye in the rearview mirror, Lindsey quirks a brow. “Is that a promise?” The way her voice has gone husky makes Emily’s mouth a little dry. 

“Do you have to ask that by now?” Emily wonders with a soft, throaty chuckle. Lindsey shrugs again, presses her fingers high up into Emily’s thigh, and then takes her hand back.

“Okay.” There’s the shadow of a grin trying to break out, now, but Lindsey’s stubbornly keeping it at bay. The light turns green and the song changes and Emily wishes Lindsey would drive a little faster. 

She refuses to go over the speed limit the entire drive home, though she keeps stealing glances over at her now. By the time they pull in, Lindsey is grinning, and Emily flips her off as they get out of the car.

-

They barely make it inside before Lindsey’s hands are on her, pushing the sweatshirt over Emily’s shoulders and letting it fall to the floor without care. They both step over it while Lindsey gets both hands on her face to kiss her. It’s eager and hungry and, most of all, not at _ all _ gentle, which Emily likes. She sighs into Lindsey’s mouth to remind her just how much she likes it. Lindsey’s busy with Emily’s shirt as she drags her mouth along Emily’s shoulder. 

They’re still walking backwards and somehow they’re in the kitchen when Emily’s helps shrug the shirt up and over her head. Her back hits the counter and Lindsey’s hands are on her hips instead, mouth at the angle of her jaw when she says, “Up.” It doesn’t take much effort on Emily’s part for Lindsey to lift her up onto the counter and then Lindsey’s pressing her knees apart and all up in her space, standing between her legs and leaving marks wherever she can reach. Which, with the added height, is a lot. There’s a lot of skin Lindsey can bring her teeth and tongue to, now, her hands creeping from Emily’s thighs to the waistband of her sweats while Emily threads her fingers in Lindsey’s hair and _ pulls_, just to get her attention. 

“Not that I’m not into this,” she says, voice breathy in a way that makes Lindsey smile. “But I wouldn’t want to be responsible for your knee injury.” 

With that, Lindsey wraps her arms around Emily and Emily gets her legs around Lindsey’s waist and Lindsey carries her towards the bedroom, slowing as they kiss in the hallway, all teeth and tongue. Lindsey deposits Emily in bed and leans down immediately to tug the sweatpants away. She stands there for a second, using the elastic on her wrist to tie her hair back, kicks off her sneakers, and gives Emily a long look that makes heat creep up Emily’s cheeks. “Roll over.”

The _ way _ Lindsey says it, so decisive, makes Emily a little bit wet before anything’s even happened, and she shuffles to comply almost immediately, earning her a soft chuckle and a “That’s it,” from Lindsey. Emily gets up on her hands and knees without being told and she feels the mattress dip before she turns her head a bit to see Lindsey climb into bed, too, on her knees, too. She’s shrugging out of her t-shirt and bra, though she doesn’t bother with the sweatpants, just settles behind Emily and uses one knee to push Emily’s further apart. Her hands find Emily’s hips and she hums appreciatively. Lindsey _ loves _ this view, the way she can see the width of Emily’s shoulders and the way her back arches and her hips widen. She pulls their bodies flush and hears Emily’s soft inhale. Her thoughts drift briefly to the top drawer of their shared dresser, but the idea of leaving Emily now sounds like the last thing she wants to do.

“Not tonight,” Lindsey says, more to herself than to Emily, though Emily makes a noise like a groan and presses back into her anyway, like she thinks Lindsey’s not going to give her what she wants.

And she might be right, at least not right away, but she’s not _ that _ cruel, bad game or not. She likes to feel like she’s good at something, too. “Come on,” Lindsey encourages her, using one of her hands to guide Emily off of her hands and back into her. She exhales quietly as Emily’s back meets her front, snakes a hand around and beneath the underwear neither of them had bothered to take off of Emily. “God.”

“Most people just call me Lindsey,” she quips, her fingers sliding a little bit. Lindsey has to marvel at how turned on Emily gets with so little prompting, but it makes it easy to slide two fingers inside of her, like it’s absolutely nothing, though Emily makes a little noise of appreciation at the action anyway, pressing her hips down and into Lindsey’s fingers as she picks up a rhythm. It’s too slow to really _ do _, anything, and Lindsey knows that, loves how Emily keeps pressing her hips back into her and then riding down onto her fingers to get more friction. 

Lindsey turns her wrist to find a better angle and Emily groans as she rocks onto her fingers. Lindsey’s mouth is busy dusting kisses along Emily’s back, but when she finds a spot on her shoulder that she likes, Lindsey opens her mouth to bite down, getting another groan in response. “Linds, come on.” Her free hand moves so that she can use her thumb to swipe over where Emily’s most sensitive; she’s never good at drawing things out when Emily’s saying her name like _ that. _

It’s like Emily’s body’s not sure where to go; her hips keep rolling down onto Lindsey’s fingers as she fucks her, but jerking into her other hand where Lindsay’s thumb is making messy circles. Lindsey repeats the love bite to the opposite shoulder, sucks a mark there she _ knows _ her teammates will see at practice on Monday, and then props her chin upon Emily’s shoulder. “You’re _ so good _ like this, Em.”

Emily comes undone with a gasp and Lindsey’s name shaky upon her lips. Lindsey doesn’t let her go just yet, keeps holding onto her with an arm loose around Emily’s hips and the other hand resting lightly on her thigh. Lindsey brushes aside Emily’s sweaty hair and presses a line of kisses along her shoulder, chasing a line of freckles along her neck to her earlobe, which she gives a soft nibble. It makes a shudder run down Emily’s spine and she leans her weight back into Lindsey, leans her head against her shoulder, eyelids suddenly too heavy to keep open. 

“You okay?” Lindsey breathes against her ear and Emily nods mutely, twisting enough to tip onto her side and effectively pulling Lindsey down with her. They’re practically spooning like this, but Lindsey doesn’t take her hands back. 

Emily turns around to face her, searching Lindsey’s face for something and finding that thoughtful crease between her brows has returned. Emily reaches a hand up to smooth it away, traces her fingertips lightly along her girl’s eyebrow and cheek before pressing in close for a kiss. Lindsey’s eyelids flutter closed for a second or two and the knit eyebrows relax. 

“More than good.” She nudges Lindsey until she shifts so that her back’s facing Emily instead, and Emily loops an arm around her, tangles a leg between both of Lindsey’s, and presses in close, dropping kisses along her shoulders (she’s always_ loved _ Lindsey’s shoulders) and neck. It doesn’t take long for the tenseness of Lindsey’s shoulders to lessen and she actually drifts off to sleep surrounded by the warmth of Emily on all sides. 

Emily chuckles softly into Lindsey’s hair, but she’s not awake much longer, either. 

-

Sometime in the middle of the night, when the world’s still dark, Lindsey shifts in her sleep, fumbles in the dark for Emily’s hand at her waist, and laces their fingers together. She doesn’t wake up.

-

It’s Lindsey who wakes up first because of an alarm she forgot to silence, but she slips out of bed so quietly that all Emily does is roll over, miss the warmth, and fall back asleep for another half an hour. She only gets up, for good, because she has to pee, and then showers for good measure. She’s in the kitchen, wet hair thrown up in a messy bun, waiting for her coffee to brew when she feels warm arms around her and a cold nose against her neck. 

“Mornin’, sunshine,” Emily mumbles, leaning back and into Lindsey. She’s wearing a sweatshirt a couple inches too short for her, which is okay, actually, because _ Emily’s _ got Lindsey’s hoodie on right now, too. 

“I got the coffee from the good place,” Lindsey’s saying into her shoulder, where she’s busy leaving a few more kisses for good measure. 

“My hero. Breakfast?”

“That, too.” 

They move around each other in the kitchen seamlessly, Emily getting plates for the food and Lindsey transferring the coffee from to-go cups to their favorite mugs. They sit at the table and eat, though Emily’s gaze keeps flicking to Lindsey’s face, where that crease is back between her eyebrows again.

“Your face really is gonna stick like that, Linds,” she says, pointing with her avocado toast. Lindsey reaches up to try and rub the concern away, as if that will work. Sighing, Emily knocks her foot with Lindsey’s. When she doesn’t look up at her, she keeps kicking until Lindsey’s forced to acknowledge her. “That wasn’t on you.” The loss. Emily feels like it’s probably more her fault. If she’d been out there, the Courage wouldn’t have gotten _ six _. She’s sure of it.

“I just wanna help.” 

“You will. One goal wouldn’t have done anything except make it a little less embarrassing.” Lindsey’s making a face, but Emily shrugs. “We’ll get you one. Just play.”

“You sound like Tobin.”

“Yeah, well, when the boot fits…”

Lindsey steals the last bite of Emily’s toast and Emily complains at her about it until she kisses her quiet. They spend an entire day not thinking at all about soccer and it’s _ good _.

-

When Lindsey scores off of Emily’s cross the following Saturday, it’s _ great _, too.


End file.
